


Triple Trouble

by JollyOzzyJones



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Far West, Gen, Genderbending, Wild West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyOzzyJones/pseuds/JollyOzzyJones
Summary: Trouble arrives in Sharktown. Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'artagnan all have scores to settle, and Constance gets a chance she can't ignore. I'm officially terrible at summaries, please forgive me! Basically it's a wild west AU, with bounty hunters, bandits, duels and saloon fights, but Athos, Porthos and Aramis are women.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from the lovely members of the facebook BBC Musketeers group: Music based story.  
> I ran with it, dreamed on it and ended up with this crazy idea based on Pink's Trouble videoclip. Some mentions of blood and a little bit of gore, but nothing more than what can be seen in the show. F-bombs sneaked in, sorry, they are a bit potty-mouthed. Aramis/Porthos is barely there, can and will probably go under the radar for anyone reading.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing! well, some stuff, but nothing related to the Musketeers (I wish...)

Constance was tired. The salon was extremely noisy for a Saturday afternoon, and some of the patrons were well on their way to becoming serious nuisances - or passing out. Her life had once looked much more promising, even when her parents had her wed to a man she didn’t know. Monsieur Bonacieux was a moderately well respected tailor that ended up setting up a store in their small town, and after a few weeks promptly asked her father for her hand.

It wasn’t until years later when he inherited the salon she was currently serving beer to another drunkard in a distant village of sorts, Sharktown, that her dreams started dimming. Uprooting her entire life and going to Sharktown was very difficult, but she did it for her husband. Shame he couldn’t really stay away from his drink. Constance ran the salon in all but name, while Bonacieux worked hard to deplete their stock.

Her only ray of sunshine walked in through the door, and she smiled. D’artagnan was a lovely, spirited fellow that arrived in the dismay little town a few weeks ago, and was renting one of her rooms in the top floor. His life had also been overturned, when robbers killed his father on the road to Sheridan. His dreams of joining the army had been put on hold until he could find the perpetrators and bring them to justice, and his search had brought him here. Apparently their hideout was somewhere in the vicinity, and he spent most of his days scouring the rugged landscape searching for their camp.

“No luck today?” She asked, as he sat down, hat in hand, and lowered his head.

“No. I’m starting to doubt they’re really somewhere around here.” He sighed, lowering his head further and leaning his forehead on the counter. Constance tutted, and after a quick trip to the kitchen brought him some of the lunch stew she had kept warm near the stove for weary travellers.

“You’re moving on if you can’t find them soon?” She asked, trying to hide her disappointment. Once he went on his way life would go back to being very boring. At his nod she added “Well, shame really, my aim is starting to get good, I guess I’ll have to keep practising on my own…”

D’artagnan lifted his head and smiled “You could always run away with me” he says cheekily, and she swats him with the dishtowel she was using to dry the cups.

“Go on and get cleaned up, or I’ll throw you in the horse trough myself!” She threatened, grinning, and he immediately jumps to his feet and up the stairs to his rooms. His help with the patrons was seriously appreciated in the evenings, when the nice folks were not in the salon and rowdy drunkards decided to listen to their drink-addled minds.

Just minutes after he went up, the salon’s doors opened again. This time a striking sight greeted them all from the outside: A very beautiful lady with a rather revealing white blouse, delicate cream corset and skirts was holding the door open, while two other ladies, the slighter and more well-dressed supporting the other, dark skinned and wearing stage coach overalls and large hunting bullet straps across her chest.

“No need for stitches Aramis, it’s just a scratch” The larger woman grunted, trying to shake away the support. The lady in white replied:

“I’ll be the judge of that, Porthos.” She let the door swing shut and flittered around the tables, finding one in the corner occupied by a single man, and somehow got him moving away and out of the saloon. Huh, Constance thought, she had been trying to get Florian to go home and sleep it off since lunchtime. The lady supporting Porthos addressed Constance:

“Good afternoon, we’re very sorry to barge in, but could you please offer us some hot water and linen? Our friend here got hurt and we should clean her up a bit. We’ll be on our way soon, I promise."

“Nonsense, stay as long as you need! I’ll fetch you the water and linens!” Constance rushed back into the kitchen, and set some water to boil. She brought out cold water and the linens, the three ladies settled down on the table, Porthos leaning forward and Aramis sliding the woman’s leather coat and the sleeve of the overalls down from her shoulder.

“Who would’ve guessed, you were right my friend, no need for stitches this time!” Aramis grinned, and Porthos tried to slap her, but she danced away cackling.

“Thank you, miss…?” The still unnamed lady asked, holding her hand out for the water.

“Madame Bonacieux, Constance” Constance tripped, Aramis dancing back into range and smiling at her in thanks, picking up the rags she brought and the water from the other lady.

“Very pleased to meet you, these are Aramis and Porthos, and I’m Athos”. Athos extended her hand and Constance shook it. Constance noticed her pale hand was very smooth, but had some obvious calluses in the palm. Her clothes looked more expensive than the other two, a beautiful blue dress with an embroidered corset and a top hat she had removed at the table. What sort of trouble they were Constance could only imagine, such a mismatched bunch of women they were! Aramis was making quick work of cleaning the wound, an odd looking ‘scratch’ as Porthos described it, on the outside of her left shoulder.

“Well, it’s getting late, will you ladies be staying for dinner?” Constance asked, and the others immediately looked at Athos pleadingly. Athos sighed deeply, and replied.

“I suppose we could stay for a while, would you know if there are any rooms we could rent for the night?” She asked, eyeing the bar.

“Sure thing, I have plenty!” Aramis lifted an eyebrow at her and smiled. Constance preened, well, if Bonacieux wasn’t going to be useful then the saloon was hers.

“I’ll bring our stuff in then.” Athos stated, and went back outside. Constance suddenly remembered the boiling water and went back to fetch it. Once that was done she went back behind the counter and watched Aramis carefully wrapping Porthos’ shoulder and adjusting her overalls sleeves back into place. Athos reappeared, probably had found the stable boys and gotten their horses inside then, carrying three saddlebags. One of the other patrons, Pierre, offered help, but was denied with a brief headshake, and she disappeared upstairs again after collecting the keys and directions from Constance.

Aramis, finished with her nurse duties sat in a stool in front of Constance and ordered some beer. Constance saw Porthos moving to the table some patrons were playing poker with a grin, and was about to warn her off when Aramis distracted her.

“How’s life around here?” She asked with a sweet little smile. Constance felt herself smiling back, and replied.

“It’s alright, nice town, nice people…” Aramis smirked at her with a head tilt, and Constance, feeling braver than usual grinned back “alright, very dull.” Aramis honest to god giggled, and took a sip of her drink.

“I guess you don’t get a lot of visitors around here, right? It’s a bit out of the way for the major towns around.”

“That’s true, this month it’s been only you and D’artagnan”

“Ohh, that’s a nice blush, a fetching lad then?” Aramis latched onto that like a shark, and Constance blushed even more.

“I’m a married woman!” She replied, indignantly.

“Doesn’t make you blind, honey” Aramis winked, and Constance felt an urge to slap her. But lightly, almost like scolding a child really.

Porthos, loud laugh interrupted them, and they saw her pushing her coins in the direction of one of the men in the gambling table, calling for another round. Aramis smirked.

“They are at it every day, maybe Porthos shouldn’t bet too much…” Constance whispered, worried.

“She’s got them right where she wants.” Aramis assured her. “So, D’artagnan. Was he here long, did you have time to ‘talk’ to him…?” She wouldn’t give up that easily.

“He’s still here, but we’re only friends! He’s been teaching me how to shoot!” Constance replied hotly.

“Oh, that’s nice of him!” Aramis seemed genuinely startled, and a soft smile took over her face. She took another long sip and went a bit quiet. Constance served another patron, and when she looked again, Aramis was chatting up Jonah, one of her regulars. He didn’t stand a chance, Aramis was certainly very charming, and Jonah was obviously blinded by her smile. Porthos’ sweet laugh ringed again, but this time she was pulling the mountain of coins in her own direction. Two of the others stood up abruptly, sour faces and hands on the butts of their pistols. Porthos grinned at them, and Aramis turned towards her to watch.

“Come on, fellas, just a game of luck, and I was lucky” Porthos said with a taunt in her voice that was unfortunately very apparent.

“You cheated” The larger of the two offended men accused, moving slowly around the table. Porthos was still seated, leaning back lazily.

“Ohh, that’s slander” She grinned “and you see, me and my friend Aramis over there, we don’t like slanderers much” Aramis promptly grinned and waved back, shark-like again.

Constance was worried now. Where was D’artagnan when she needed him? These ladies would end up getting hurt. Before she could think of something to appease the men, all hell broke loose. Porthos, light as a cat, managed to dodge the man’s fist, and rebuked with one of her own, who hit the mark dead center and dropped him out cold on the floor. The others also got up, ready to fight, and two rushed her at once. Aramis smirked and picked one of the men planning to attack Porthos from behind, tutting at him and knocking him out with the butt of a pistol she procured from somewhere from amongst her skirt’s many folds.

When a chair went flying Constance started yelling angrily for everyone to cut it out, but no one paid attention to her. Apparently Aramis and Porthos heard though, because they made quick work of their opponents then, and kicked them out. High-fiving each other and receiving applauses from the other patrons they slung arms around each other’s shoulders and sat at the bar, grinning at her.

Constance huffed, and slapped them both with her dishtowel. “Are you both insane? Picking up fights with people you don’t know? What if they hurt you?”

“Well, to be fair they were the ones who started it” Aramis smirked, and received another slap for her efforts. Athos made his way downstairs, followed by D’artagnan. She lifted an eyebrow and drawled:

“I don’t want to know.” And sat down next to Porthos, asking for some wine. D’artagnan sat next to her warily, clearly distraught.

“What happened?” Constance whispered to him, sliding a cup of wine to him as well.

“Nothing…” At Constance’s raised brows he sighed and confessed “The only clue I had seems to be false.”

“Clue?” Aramis asked, meddling.

Before D’artagnan could explain, or introduce himself, or say anything, the doors banged open again. Sheriff Labarge sauntered in with his enforcers, looking around and setting his sights on the ladies.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” He drawled with a sneer. “I heard some ‘women’ were causing trouble and disrupting some good men’s time here.”

“I can assure you these accusations are unfounded, sir.” Athos said mildly “We are merely enjoying our own drinks.”

“That’s a nice story, but a lie, according to my friends. According to them, one of you stole from them, and the other was behaving most vulgarly” He sneered, eyeing Aramis up and down. Porthos started to rise, anger evident in her face, but Athos held her down with nothing but a quick look. “I don’t know how it is wherever you lot came from, but here in my town stealing and soliciting are crimes. So you see, I’m obliged by the law to arrest you lot” He explained, slowly walking closer and smirking.

“Athos was not with us when these men you said attacked us unprovoked” Aramis stood up carefully “We were minding our business when they started throwing accus…” In a blink Labarge’s men moved forward, interrupting Aramis and accosting her and the others. They fought viciously to stop them, but sheer number and size won out in the end, and the three were held down, Aramis with bloodied lips and an arm around her throat, and Porthos with two men struggling to hold her still. D’artagnan, who tried to defend them ended up held down as well.

“I don’t know what your business is with these ladies, but surely you can have some compassion? Your men hurt them! And I was with Athos the whole time, she had nothing to do with this!” He tried to reason with the sheriff, to no avail.

“You better stay put, pup, or you can join them in prison!” he roared, angry that a stray punch from Porthos had nicked him in the chin. Constance immediately held D’artagnan back when the brute holding him pushed him away, the others dragged the three ladies away and Labarge left.

“We can’t let them do that! What are they going to do to them?” D’artagnan exclaimed outraged.

“We can’t exactly take down the sheriff and all his men alone either, D’artagnan!” Constance rebuked, trying to think of a plan. “Besides, how do you know they’re not criminals anyway? You don’t know what happened” She added, trying to gauge his reaction.

“What sort of sheriff goes around arresting women for bar fights and listens to only one side of the fight?” D’artagnan still fuming started to pace. “Besides, that’s what I was talking about before. The name one of the bandits mentioned was Athos. I thought it was one of his henchmen, but now Athos is a woman, and obviously not a henchman, and she said they are bounty hunters. Huntresses. Female hunters? Whatever, and they are actually after a bunch of highway robbers, who sound a lot like the ones that kil… that killed my father… they’re the only hope I have of finding them and bringing them to justice!” he babbled confusedly.

“We need a plan then” Constance concluded, and D’artagnan looked at her with shining eyes “No need to look at me like that, I’m a woman, not a pretty vase! The sheriff is a cruel man, it’s about time someone put him back in his place” She huffed, blushing.

“Well, you are still very pretty” D’artagnan added with a smile, and her blush deepened.

“Oh hush, you” she grumbled, dragging him into the kitchen. “Right, we need to break them out of jail. How can we do that?”

Before D’artagnan could say anything he was interrupted the second time that night. Monsieur Bonacieux stumbled into the kitchen, bottle of whiskey held tightly in one hand, and squinted at them both.

“Whatcha doing, Constance?” He slurred.

“I’m asking D’artagnan to wash the dishes while I tend to the bar, we have lots of patrons today and he offered help” She lied quickly, hoping he would lose interest and go back to their room with his drink. Instead he grunted.

“Well, no, you can wash the dishes while I ten to the bar, and you can scamper ‘way, D’artagnan, wassit? That’sa girl’s job.”

D’artagnan was about to argue back when Constance had an idea: “Of course, you should get your horse and go, D’artagnan” She said with both brows lifted, eyes rounded, hoping he would get the hint. He did.

“Ok, bye.” He said quietly, and left through the back door. Bonacieux held Constance’s chin in his hand.

“Don be useless now, stop lying about.” And he went to the front to ‘tend to the bar’. Constance really pissed off but with bigger fish to fry rushed to the back door.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry, that was my fault” Porthos whispered sadly, looking at Aramis’ split lip. She wanted to hug the other woman, but they were all in different cells.

“It wasn’t your fault Porthos, those men started throwing punches and slandering you unprovoked” Aramis sniffed, livid with anger at the injustice.

“It’s not slander if it’s true, ladies” Athos, annoyed she couldn’t finish her drink, shot back.

“Well, they still were the ones that started throwing punches. And then couldn’t take it and went crying like babies to the sheriff.” Aramis groused.

“And what they were saying about you, Aramis…” Athos started, but Aramis replied acidly, defensively.

“I wasn’t planning on receiving payment for a night out with a nice looking fella, if that’s what you’re asking”.

“… I was going to say that you can wear the clothes you want, you should still be treated with respect.” Athos said carefully, and saw Aramis’s strong façade cracking a bit, arms instinctively curling around herself.

“Sorry…”

“No need to apologise for this, just for your bloodlust, you two. Seriously, is it that difficult to hold your need for a good fight for when we have time for it?” Athos replied lazily, diffusing the uncomfortable situation. Porthos and Aramis grinned at her. “How do we get out then? I don’t think we should wait for the nice sheriff to come back”.

The two lazy guards were far enough away that they paid them no mind. Porthos and Athos, in adjacent cells, started whispering, but Aramis wasn’t paying attention, eyeing the guards critically. Once she caught the attention of the nicer looking one, she gave a timid smile and played with the ties of her blouse. The other guard elbowed him in the ribs and smirked. Athos saw the movement, and immediately whispered to Aramis.

“No, don’t!” Porthos understood what was happening and straightened her back, worried.

Aramis ignored them, eyes glued to her chosen victim. Her shacked wrists banged lightly against the iron bars of her cell, while she pouted and pretended to be inconvenienced by them, ‘accidentally’ letting her skirts hitch up a little.

“I guess you got your chance tonight, Jeremy!” the other guard laughed, pushing the younger forward and slapping him in the back. “I’ll be outside smoking, take your time” he winked, and left.

Jeremy sauntered closer, twirling the keychain around his fingers and pretending he wasn’t nervous, but Aramis saw right through him. Smiling demurely, she held her arms low and pushed her chest forward slightly, and he opened her cell and crowded her. Smile still on her face, she leaned against him, kissing his neck carefully and holding her bound hands against his chest. He flinched from the cold, and she apologised softly, looking up at him through her lashes. Athos and Porthos rolled their eyes in unison, but were still paying attention. As soon as he clicked the shackles open Aramis pushed him back against the bars, mouth against his neck again and hands holding his tightly above his head. He moaned. In an instant, she had him shackled to the bars and knocked out unconscious, keys in her hand. She adjusted her blouse and sauntered to the lock in front of Porthos’ cell.

“Pity, he was cute. Wanna get out of here, honey?”

“With you, always, darling” She grinned back. Once both doors were opened and they realised the guard had no useful weapons neither the cabinet behind the desk, they decided to risk the smoking guard. Papers on the desk grabbed Athos’attention.

Before they could risk the exit though, a small commotion happened, and the door was thrown open. They immediately prepared for a fight, but in came Constance and D’artagnan.

“What…” D’artagnan started, but Aramis and Porthos rushed and hugged them, grinning.

“Our knights in shining armour!” Porthos gushed, faking a teary voice.

“And they brought us gifts! Look!” Aramis continued, pointing to their own guns strapped to D’artagnan and Constance’s waists.

“But not my rifle” Porthos pouted, and Athos decided to stop them.

“We should get going, no?” she smirked, and the five of them made their way through the back exit.

They stealthily made their way back to the saloon’s back entrance, and up to their room.

“What now?” Constance asked “Where will you run to?”

“Did the guard see you?” Aramis asked. At D’artagnan’s nod, Aramis winced “you’re not safe here”.

Constance wasn’t worried about herself, she could sneak back into the kitchen and her husband would be her alibi and D’artagnan… D’artagnan could run away with these beautiful ladies, and get justice for his father… She swallowed thickly.

“You all might be interested in these…” Athos, who was quietly reading the papers she grabbed from the desk earlier said, serious. Aramis hugged her from behind, chin hooking over the woman’s shoulder to read it, and Porthos slid in next to them.

“We have our robbers then.” Aramis said quietly, and Porthos started to get guns and knives out of one of the bags.

“D’artagnan, you said your father was murdered three weeks ago in the road to Sheridan, just off of South Flat?”Athos inquired, and D’artagnan’s brows rose.

“Yes…?”

“Labarge and his band are the criminals we’re all looking for.” He sighed. “These papers here account for the manpower, payments and profit of each robbery they’ve been doing. Apparently they’re in the payroll of someone that wants some chaos in the region.”

D’artagnan wanted to rush outside and kill Labarge immediately. Constance shot that idea down with a sharp slap to the back of his head and sharper words about thinking before acting. Aramis failed miserably in holding a straight face, and giggled again.

“Do you know how many men he has under his employment?” Athos, the strategist, asked.

“It’s the ten you saw earlier, plus another 15 or so that must have been doing rounds or whatever” D’artagnan answered, chastised.

“Ambush then” Porthos stated, clicking her double barrelled rifle shut. Aramis looked at the woman with heart eyes.

“I love when you talk dirty”

Athos cleared her throat, and they also went to collect and prepare for the fight.

“And what do I do” D’artagnan asked. Constance  slapped him. Hard. “Ouch! Ok, what do ‘we’ do?”

The three ladies stopped and eyed each other. Constance and D’artagnan could see an entire conversation happening through looks and facial expressions. These women were magnificent, they agreed.

“You said D’artagnan taught you to shoot, Constance? How good is he?” Aramis asked, expertly loading her pistols without even glancing at them.

“He hits more cans than he misses from 50 yards.” She replied, and Aramis smiled.

“Not too shabby, we could use you when things get going then” She grins, and tells them to fetch their weapons.

The plan is to cause a scene, and funnel the henchmen and Labarge into the back pass, a narrow road right in the back of the village, nestled between a ridge and a cliff. By now it was probably any second when they would realise the women had escaped, and Constance had the exact scene se would create.

 

* * *

 

 

“Help!” She barged in through the doors of the saloon “I saw that scoundrel D’artagnan killing one of the sheriff’s men and releasing those ruffian women! I think they’ll run away together!!” she yelled hysterically, and some of the men rushed out to warn the sheriff. Bonacieux reeled around and his eyes almost popping out, screamed.

“What are you doing, woman? What were you doing outside? Were you with that man?”

She easily ignored him, went to the counter and grabbed her own pistol from a hidden drawer; a safety measure she had decided on when she found out her husband wasn’t going to be any help at the saloon. Bonacieux kept spluttering on while she checked the gun was loaded, and made her way to the doors.

“You step foot out of that door, be prepared to never come back” His words, suddenly sober, stopped her in her tracks. A cold feeling shot down her spine, and she turned around. Looking at him, at his sorry state, in the saloon she slaved on for years to keep running without his help, hell, with his hindrance really, made her blood boil.

“Goodbye then.” And she left. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then a grin bloomed on her face, and she started running.

Porthos saw them approaching first. He made a soft whistling sound to alert the others. The cart blocking the road was D’artagnan’s idea, and it was inspired. As soon as a good number of the men were trying to dislodge the cart, Aramis shot the lonely powder keg they managed to steal from the sheriff’s armoury, but it was enough to blow the cart to smithereens and send half the men tumbling down the cliff and the other half to the ground, knocked over. Labarge yelled in rage from the back and rushed forward, shooting in the direction he thought the shot had come from, but Aramis had moved already, and shot another man. Porthos’rifle made a loud bang, and carved a very large hole into the one that tried to rush her. Athos shot two more beforeengaging in a knife fight, a scary smile on her face. D’artagnan, fury rushing through his veins, went straight for Labarge, knife at the ready, but he dodged right on time. He grinned viciously, and pointed his gun at him.

“What do you want, boy? A shot through the head or the heart?” A man screamed to Labarge’s left, and came tumbling down the ridge on top of Labarge, making his shot go wide. Aramis winked at D’artagnan and disappeared back into the woods.

Labarge’s men regrouped and took cover on the bend of the road around the ridge, and the ladies and D’artagnan went back up to their hiding spot.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We have four times your number, and a route to supplies. You’re pinned” Labarge taunted.

“Are you sure you want to keep this up any longer? We killed half your men in one go!” Porthos bellowed with a laugh, and Athos shushed her disapprovingly. A series of shots hit the tree right next to their cover, and Athos and D’artagnan flinched.

“There you are…” Aramis whispered, and shot one of the villains on the head. “Thanks, Porthos” She smiled.

“You’re welcome, darling” she winked back. Athos sighed, while D’artagnan looked at them baffled. More shots rang out, while Aramis reloaded calmly and Porthos laughed maniacally, shooting in their general direction and causing them all to scatter with the loud echoing bang. Aramis picked another one off, but one of their adversaries shot was too close. She hissed in pain when it nicked her arm, and she dropped back into cover.

“That’s enough!” Labarge yelled, pissed off. “You’re outlaws and I will arrest you or kill you here tonight! It’s your choice!”

“Yeah, right, just arrest us, sure” Aramis grumbled, angry. She had finished loading again.

“You alright?” Athos demanded from the other side of Porthos.

“Yeah, just a scratch” She said, and Porthos snickered and pointed out the irony in their reversed roles.

 They could hear the bandits whispering furiously, and a few minutes went by.

“I demand a duel to settle this” Labarge stated, furious. “I’ll choose one of you to challenge to a duel, 50 yards, if I win the others surrender, if you win, you go free, what do you say?”

“And how do we know your men won’t just shoot us when we come out?” D’artagnan yelled back.

“We want your word as an agent of the law that you will not kill us and your men will follow the rules of the duel” Athos said imperiously. D’artagnan looked at him incredulous.

“You think we can trust them? They’re not agents of the law, they’re robbers and murderers!”

“But they don’t know we know that” Porthos explained “If they kill us all everyone in town will be suspicious of foul play, I mean, how could they manage to not get women arrested? And if they’re getting paid by someone to cause disturbances he won’t want to be exposed like that, innit? So that’s the easy way out, one of us dies, and he gets the rest behind bars, with a nice bow on the top.”

“That’s crazy, what if they don’t give a fuck and just shoots us all?” D’artagnan still was sceptical, but apparently the ladies knew what they were doing. They all agreed to come out, guns holstered on both sides, hands away.

“That was very smart of you ladies” Labarge grunted. “Duel then, right here. And I want… you, as my opponent” He pointed at Aramis, who was holding her shoulder in pain, blood staining her white blouse and running down her arm. It looked worse than a scratch in D’artagnan’s  opinion.

“That’s unfair, she’s hurt!” D’artagnan yelled outraged, while Labarge grinned evilly.

“You agreed I could choose the opponent, but you could always just renege on the agreement and surrender.”

“I can do it” Aramis breathed deeply and looked Athos and Porthos each in the eyes one after the other.

“Are you sure?” Athos asked worriedly, hand brushing her cheek. She nodded again, wincing slightly when she let go of her wound.

 Everyone moved to their positions then, back to the beginning of the road where they would have space to move away from the line of fire. Aramis and Labarge moved to the center, and the size difference was making D’artagnan jittery.

“It’s good, means he’s a bigger target” Porthos whispered in his ear, a quick grin hidden to the others by her hat. D’artagnan, puzzled and still worried, focused again on the duel.

Labarge and Aramis both turned around and counted their paces, slowly reaching their agreed distance. They were almost in place when Labarge turned around, gun trained on Aramis.

“Look out!” D’artagnan yelled, and quick as a whip Aramis twirled around, dropped to one knee, and two shots rang out.

Labarge fell like a sack of flour to the ground, a neat little hole on the centre of his forehead. His shot disappeared in the direction of the woods, and Aramis rose back up, dusting her knee.

“Tsk, so uncivilised.” She complained, and D’artagnan breathed out relieved.

“Our agreement stands then” Athos drawls, hand resting on his gun, while Porthos swings his rifle around grinning.

The man they suppose is the second in command moves a step forward, nodding carefully.

“Well, that simply won’t do” Athos grunts. “Drop your weapons then, so we know you won’t shoot us in our backs.” The sound of Aramis huffing and moving in their direction seems to be the last straw, and the eleven bandits still alive lower their weapons to the ground and kick them in their direction.

“Good.” Athos sighs. “You’re all arrested, under authority of the state of Michigan, for armed robbery, highway assault and murder.” And Aramis, Porthos and D’artagnan have their weapons pointed at them. They surrender.

 

* * *

 

 

A carriage slowly makes its way across the town towards the main road. The little welcome sign in front of the village states the name Sharktown, population 96 crossed out and 94 added in front of it. One of the riders following it goes around and forward, and the other men wait around the carriage.

“You managed to get them all then?” The man asks Athos rhetorically, who nods nonetheless. He sighs, and hands her a large pouch, heavy and tinkling. His salt and pepper hair and beard neatly trimmed give him an aura of respect, his sharp blue eyes scanning the village and the onlookers that gathered out of curiosity. His smirk is immediately reflected by Athos, and they look oddly alike to D’artagnan. Aramis and Porthos hang back with Constance, who is ignoring her husband.

“We might have a new recruit for you” Athos says, pointing with her head minutely towards D’artagnan, who moves forward.

“Is that so?” He says contemplatively, and D’artagnan straightens his back. “Good. We’ll move the bodies and your prisoners to Sheridan for their trial. You can pick your next assignment there in a couple of weeks.” He tells Athos who nods, and after a sharp whistle, the carriage and the men move out and slowly make their way away from the little town.

“Thank you, Marshall Treville” Athos waves, and turns back to her friends.

“So what now?” D’artagnan asks, and the five of them form a small little circle.

“We should train, your aim is atrocious” Aramis grins towards Constance.

“You didn’t see me shooting yet!” she huffs, and Aramis laughs “If D’artagnan was the one teaching you there’s no way it’s any good!” And Porthos cackles next to her, clapping her on the back and almost making her trip.

“Where to, Captain?” Porthos asks Athos, who hums.

“Any place you fancy to meet, Constance? D’artagnan?” She asks, placidly.

“What?” D’artagnan asks.

“You mean it?” Constance whispers, tears threatening to fall.

“Of course he does” Aramis lays an arm across her shoulder, knocking their heads together.

“We better move soon, before that supposed husband of yours decides to splutter us to death” Porthos booms with laughter, startling the snivelling Bonacieux, that was slowly making his way to them, probably to complain some more.

“You’re right” Constance says with a smile. She looks beautiful, and D’artagnan wants to hug her. And kiss her. “Maybe west? I always wanted to see the ocean…”

“To the west we go then!” Aramis gushes, and starts skipping towards their horses “If we follow the Transcontinental we can get to California in a couple of weeks! My family lived around a nice settlement in Mariposa, if we go south a little bit we can see it, you’ll love the place, the valleys around there are beautiful!”

“I guess we’ll take a break before our next assignment” Athos sighs, and Porthos laughs, seeing Aramis dragging Constance towards their horses and D’artagnan asking questions about the road.

“Yup, I think so too” Porthos agrees.

 

The End!


End file.
